


Pets

by hyphyp



Series: Tumblr Fics [6]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Banter, M/M, with a capital B
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-04
Updated: 2016-03-04
Packaged: 2018-05-24 15:49:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6158684
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyphyp/pseuds/hyphyp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Because Q branch has a cat bed in it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pets

**Author's Note:**

> inspired by [this pic of Q branch](http://double-ohs.tumblr.com/post/139887319926/whishawnews-johanirae-blood-sweat-bond)

“You have your own little palace down here, don’t you?” Bond asks. He picks up a loose circuit board from a pile of them sitting on the desk and flips it around, examining the dark brown burn from either side. “Or dungeon. Been torturing something lately?”

“Only you,” Q says, not looking up from his work. He’s sitting hunched over a fresh board, carefully soldering microchips into place. One of the cats has leaped up onto his near horizontal shoulders and is stretched out there like a prince. Q either hasn’t noticed or doesn’t care. “Is there something I can help you with, double-oh seven?”

“Many things,” Bond says. He sets the circuit board down and leans his elbows onto the desk so he can watch Q’s steady hands at work.  

The cat eyes him suspiciously, its ears alert and its tail lowered. Q glances up with an identical wary expression. The resemblance between them is nearly eerie.

“Where’s the other beast?” Bond asks, casting his eyes about the cluttered room. He can’t see anything but that doesn’t mean it isn’t lurking, waiting for a vulnerability to appear – his ankles are a favorite.

“Up on one of the shelves, I suspect,” Q says. He seems to decide that Bond isn’t a threat at this particular moment in time because he returns to his circuit board. “She likes to hide.”

Bond cranes his neck and spots the end of a tail hanging over the rim of an open cardboard box.

“Do you know,” he starts, only just now remembering, “Blofeld had a cat.”

Q hums in distracted interest.

“White Persian,” Bond continues. “Hideous thing – just as bad as its master.”

“Oh, don’t say that,” Q says. “Pets can hardly help their owners, after all.”

“Curiously, that excuse never seems to work when I get caught doing immoral things on order from the British government.”

“Are you admitting,” Q says, “to having been caught?”

“No,” Bond says. “Only strategically repositioned.”

Q grins down at his own hands and then sets the soldering iron aside. The cat on his shoulders stretches and leaps down onto the floor just before Q unfolds himself into a normal human shape, as if it were a carefully practiced ritual.

“Besides, you’re no one’s pet,” Q says. “And woe be to those who think they hold your leash.”

Bond leans across the desk, pushing the lamp out of the way so that he can angle his face toward Q’s unimpeded, and says, “I’d let you hold my leash, Quartermaster.  If you asked very nicely.”

Q rolls his eyes and stands up.  “This again,” he mutters.  To the cats he calls, “Nix, Charon, supper time.”

The cat on the shelf sits up like a jack in the box and leaps off of the shelf onto the floor beside Q.  She mewls loudly and brushes up against his leg, leaving black hairs that are visible even against the dark material of his trousers.  The other cat pads patiently to the food bowls, its tail bobbing from side to side.

“You can’t convince me you don’t want me,” Bond says, following Q to the counter where he keeps the cat supplies.

“I don’t want you,” Q says. He scoops kibble into the food dishes from a big plastic container with a clip on lid.

“You like your pets to be aloof,” Bond continues, as though he hasn’t heard. “But you want their affection, too.  You bring the little terrors to work with you.”

“Because they ruin the couch cushions otherwise,” Q says, picking up the water dishes to refresh them.

“And you’re terribly sentimental for a couple of natural hunters who you’ve named after the ferryman to the underworld and his mother. One can’t help but see the resemblance.”

“You’ve missed a few of the finer points, double oh seven,” Q tells him. “Namely, that my cats hate everyone but me and are also completely idiotic.” He turns and crosses his arms. “You’re a randy Tom with too many smart ideas of your own.”

“So you admit my ideas are smart.”

“Mine are smarter.”

“Spots.”

“Geriatric.”

“Isn’t it past your bed time?”

“I’m busy building you a hearing aid.  Maybe then you’ll actually _listen_ –”

“For heaven’s sake!” Moneypenny says loudly, slamming a stack of folders down onto Q’s desk with a loud slap. “James, I know it’s a tall order for you, but stop being such a dirty old man. Q, quit pussyfooting around it and let him shag you already.  Good Lord!” She throws her hands up in the air and stalks back out of Q-branch, her heels echoing loudly on the cement steps.

Q and Bond stare after her, Q bright pink and Bond looking vaguely offended. Bond recovers quickly enough and rounds back on Q who is still blushing.

“Smart woman, that Eve Moneypenny,” Bond says, quirking an eyebrow.

“Shut up, Bond,” Q snaps.


End file.
